This was a woman, or, speaking more correctly, a retired wench, whose like can be found only in the south of Russia; neither a Pole nor a Little Russian; already sufficiently old and rich in order to allow herself the luxury of maintaining a husband (and together with him a cabaret), a handsome and kindly little Pole. Horizon and Barsukova met like old friends. They had, it seemed, no fear, no shame, no conscience when they conversed with each other. “Madam Barsukova! I can offer you something special! Three women: one a large brunette, very modest; another a little one, a blonde, but who, you understand, is ready for everything; the third is a woman of mystery, who merely smiles and doesn’t say anything, but promises much and is a beauty!” Madam Barsukova was gazing at him with mistrust, shaking her head. “Mister Horizon! What are you trying to fill my head with? Do you want to do the same with me that you did last time?” “By God, I should live so, how I want to deceive you! But that’s not the main thing. I’m also offering you a perfectly educated woman. Do with her what you like. In all probability you’ll find a connoisseur.” Barsukova smiled artfully and asked: “Again a wife?” “No. But she’s of the nobility.” “Then that means unpleasantnesses with the police again?” “Ach! My God! I don’t take big money from you; all the three for a lousy thousand roubles.” “Well, let’s talk frankly; five hundred. I don’t want to buy a cat in a bag.” “It seems, Madam Barsukova, that it isn’t the first time you and I have done business together, I won’t deceive you and will bring her here right away. Only I beg you not to forget that you’re my aunt, and please work in that direction. I won’t be more than three days here in the city.” Madam Barsukova, with all her breasts, bellies and chins, began to sway merrily. “We won’t dicker over trifles. All the more so since you don’t deceive me, nor I you. There’s a great demand for women now. What would you say, Mister Horizon, if I offered you some red wine?” “Thank you, Madam Barsukova, with pleasure.” “Let’s talk a while like old friends. Tell me, how much do you make a year?” “Ach, madam, what shall I say? Twelve, twenty thousand, approximately. But think what tremendous expenses there are in constantly travelling.” “Do you put away a little?” “Well, that’s trifles; some two or three thousand a year.” “I thought ten, twenty ...” Horizon grew wary. He sensed that he was beginning to be drawn out and asked insidiously: “But why does this interest you?” Anna Michailovna pressed the button of an electric bell and ordered the dressy maid to bring coffee with steamed cream and a bottle of Chambertaine. She knew the tastes of Horizon. Then she asked: “Do you know Mr. Shepsherovich?” Horizon simply pounced upon her. “My God! Who don’t know Shepsherovich! This is a god, this is a genius!” And, having become animated, forgetting that he was being dragged into a trap, he began speaking exaltedly: